In three days he was upon his feet, and in four he walked out of doors and followed Jo into the woods, and watched him fell a tree and do a woodsman's work.
Indoors he regarded all Jo did with eager interest and a pleased, complacent look, and readily did as he was told.

He seldom spoke--not above three or four times a day, and then simply and directly, and only concerning his wants.

From first to last he never asked a question, and there was never any inquiry by look or word.

A hundred and twenty miles lay between him and his old home, between him and Kathleen and Billy and Jean Jolicoeur's saloon, but between him and his past life the unending miles of eternity intervened.

He was removed from it as completely as though he were dead and buried.
A month went by.